Moss
by orionsnights
Summary: "That girl is finally happy. The least you could do is leave her alone." And she's right. It really is the least I could do. But instead, I dream of moss and rainwater and brown hair and poems, and wonder what could have been.
1. Chapter 1

"Edward, will you come with me to the store?" It's my mom's soft, lilting voice trying to coax me out of bed. She does this a lot. Attempts to drag me out of whatever depressive state I'm in for small mundane tasks. I'll go. Of course I'll go. But it's to placate her. Not for myself. I never do anything good for myself. I've realized that over the years.

I never thought that I would be twenty nine and living in my parents house, equipped with a Doctorates and a residency under my belt, but here I was. Miserably depressed, sleeping until noon in my childhood bedroom while glaringly unemployed.

I knew I was the only one to blame for my sudden downfall. I hadn't handled my breakup with Tanya well. It wasn't even that I cared about staying with her - I didn't know if I even still loved her - but hearing someone you had been with for years tell you that she'd fallen in love with someone else is still a pretty big blow to the ego. And apparently mine was so fragile that it intensely shattered, leaving me a drunken mess on the floor of the fancy townhouse her dad bought for us.

In the following months after Tanya's confession, I trudged along and finished my residency, but ultimately hadn't made any decisions on where I wanted to be. All I knew was that I had to get the hell out of Chicago. So I did, promptly moving back home to Forks to let my mom coddle me while I overslept and moped over the maybe-love lost.

"Of course, mom. Give me a sec." I tell her, kicking off the covers. I allow myself a moment to prep myself for leaving my room, before I finally head into the bathroom. I scrub my face and try to ignore the way my hair is so long it's curling (I couldn't remember the last time I had it cut) and how what was once a five-o-clock shadow is now a beard. When I'm finally dressed, I head to the car where my mom is waiting and take my spot in the driver's seat.

I feel bad for ignoring her while she's chattering away the entire drive, but my brain seems to lack the mental capacity to do much these days, and sometimes that includes listening to my mother's chatter about dinner and gardening and brunch dates.

It's a typically cold and rainy day in Forks. The town feels almost unbearably sleepy after so many years in Chicago, but perhaps I need it. To just drown in moss and rainwater. Let it drug me and slow me down. Even if it's not what I need, it's what I've done.

In the store, my mother begins to direct me around, telling me what she needs, and sending me off for things. It's as I'm walking into the produce section for some potatoes that I see something that completely distracts me.

Even in a white turtleneck sweater dress I can make out her slim, curvy form, so grown up compared to how lanky she was in her teens. Her long legs are coated in sheer black tights and the sexiest pair of latex black ankle boots reside on her feet. What really captured my attention, however, was the long brunette hair cascading down her back. It was different than when I last saw her in person. Now, she had fringe and honey blonde strands blended in at her ends, but it was still as gorgeous as I remembered. I wonder if it felt the same…

Apparently I stood there staring for too long, because all of a sudden my mother is next to me, and she's noticed what I'm staring at.

"Oh, Bella! I didn't know you were in town!" Her voice is slightly admonishing, and I wonder if she's stayed in contact with Bella. I find myself getting angry at the thought of her keeping that from me for all of these years.

Bella spins around, romaine hearts in hand, and looks sheepishly at Esme. Her eyes flicker to me, but she quickly moves her gaze back to the woman next to me. Instead of getting offended, I take the time to observe the features of her face. Fuck, did time do her well.

Her eyes, which had always been big, look dark and sultry underneath the fringe covering her forehead, and her skin looks clear and dewy. Her lips are pursed, drawing my eyes down to her full upper lip, which is slightly bigger than her bottom lip.

"I'm sorry, Esme, I've been so busy! I'm here for the wedding this weekend." Her voice is still as soft spoken as ever, and the husky tones give me goosebumps. It had been so long since I had thought of her, even longer since I had spoken to her. I wonder why she still affected me now, ten years after our disastrous breakup.

Finally realizing what she just said, I tense. She couldn't be… could she?

Okay, I lied when I said I hadn't thought of her in a long time. Often, I find myself checking on how she's doing, but that's only because I can simply rely on the internet to do so.

After graduating high school, Bella moved on to go to UCLA to study English. It was during her first year there, however, that her manuscript was picked up by a publishing house, and her first book ever, a thriller about a string of murders in a sleepy pacific northwestern town, was published. The book did exceptionally well, making all kinds of "Best Seller" lists. It took only two two years for it to be turned into a movie, with star names on the roster, and her popularity was cemented. And while she had some other novels under her belt since then, her next claim to fame was her poetry book, which included poems and prose spanning her adolescence, all the way into her adulthood. The Los Angeles Review of Books called it "a devastatingly honest portrayal of growing up" and the New York Times called Bella "a genius at crafting her words so articulately, you struggle to remember that the heartbreaks are not your own".

I never read her books. Any of them. But especially not her poetry one.

By doing these spontaneous google searches for "Isabella Swan", I also discovered that she was now dating a musician named Jasper Whitlock, some Texan that got popular by sounding like any other Seattle indie-rock band. According to an interview with Whitlock in Rolling Stone, they met while she was doing a reading in LA. He was at a bookstore, and happened to hear her voice while she was reading from her book of poems. For him, it was love at first sight, an immediate infatuation. As soon as she finished the reading, he approached her and asked her to marry him. When she turned him down, he instead asked her to coffee. And thus, their cringe-worthy love story was born. She was cited as the muse for his most recent album by many publications. I refused to listen to it, which was unfortunate. I was a fan of his before he proposed to the girl I lost my virginity to.

Esme saves me from my internal monologue and personal torture of thinking that it's Bella getting married by saying, "Oh yes, we're so happy for Charlie and Sue. Carlisle and I are looking forward to the wedding. I'm sure it'll be beautiful."

I wonder if they can see me sigh in relief. I'm not quite sure why I feel this way. It shouldn't matter to me, especially as I'm moping about my break-up with Tanya. Perhaps there's a part of me that's still in love with Bella, that might always be. Not only was she my first love, she was the first person whose heart I broke, and in the process broke my own.

I was dumb back then. I still am.

She and Esme are talking and then they're making brunch plans for the following day while I just stare. I realize I haven't said anything to her until she's saying goodbye and starting to turn away, so I finally find my voice and say, "Bye Bella." I cringe at how hoarse I sound.

She looks back at me, and smiles slightly, a small chuckle escaping before she responds with a simple "bye," and leaves me standing here, staring and looking like a complete idiot. My mom seems to sense my state of emotional turmoil, so she simply lead me away, ushering me to the checkout line and out of the store. It's not until we're nearly home that I unthaw, looking over at my mother as she drives us home.

"You kept in touch with her?" My words come out harsh, and I don't intend for them to be. She simply smiles.

"Yes, of course. You know she was like a second daughter to us. Plus, her and Alice are still friends. Of _course_ we still talk to Bella." I cringe at her name, and then rage at the sudden disclosure regarding my sister.

"Wait, her and Alice are friends? Since when?" Even when we were dating in high school, Bella and Alice weren't all that close, simply acquaintances with one thing in common - me. Now to hear that they are friends, even ten years later, shocked me.

"Since senior year of high school I think? I'm not sure it's any of your business anyway." She informs me pointedly. It takes me a second to register what she just said.

"Mom, you know I-"

"I really don't want to hear it, Edward." She scolds gently. "That girl is finally happy. The least you could do is leave her alone."

And she's right. It really is the least I could do. But instead, I dream of moss and rainwater and brown hair and poems, and wonder what could have been.

* * *

_A/N: This is just a small bit of a story that's been starting to form in my mind. I'm really just messing around with it, so we'll see! For those who are followers of my story The Wife, I apologize for delays on the next chapter. I'm aiming to have one uploaded some time in the next week. I promised I will finish it, and I will! xx_


	2. Chapter 2

At the age of twenty-nine, I'm afraid to admit that I understand the feeling of regret, and have felt it many times. In college, there was regret after a night out, or maybe a sordid encounter that I would wish had never happened. More recently, I've felt regret over my reaction to breaking up with Tanya, or perhaps regret ever being with Tanya in the first place.

But the regret I've held onto the longest - my biggest regret in life - was breaking up with Bella Swan.

In the week following the grocery store encounter, Bella has become all I think about. I found myself surreptitiously driving past her father's home whenever I ventured out of my self-made prison, hoping for just the tiniest peek of what she could be doing. All I ever saw was a brand new forest green Audi SQ5 parked in the driveway, looking unbelievably shiny next to the Chief's police cruiser.

Despite my persistence, my mother refused to tell me anything about her brunch with Bella. I asked and asked, and she refused to budge, giving me a sharp motherly look of admonishment each time. It got to the point where I felt I had to avoid my mother, knowing I would be facing her wrath should I mention my ex-girlfriend one more time.

The lack of information put me into a new bout of depression until my savior showed up in a whirlwind of black hair, tulle, and enthusiasm. Apparently, in all my narcissism, I hadn't realized Alice was coming into town for the Chief's wedding.

I had my new in.

But every time I approached Alice and started to even think of her name, Alice seemed to know, and she would refuse me an answer, or even a full sentence, and would leave the room. By the time the wedding rolled around, I was frustrated and antsy, dressed in a suit that felt too awkward for my long body, my face clean-shaven and my freshly cut hair in disarray. Alice agreed to take me as her plus-one, but only if I promised to behave. Of course, I swore up and down that I would be the perfect angel, and how could I even stir up trouble at the _Chief's_ wedding, of all places, and I don't know what she's talking about, I'm not obsessed with Bella, everything is fine.

Everything is fine.

Until it's not.

Until I look and see Jasper Whitlock sitting in the third row, looking admittedly better than me in his dusty blue suit, his curly hair tamed, unlike my unruly locks. We're waiting for the bridesmaids to enter, and then Canon in D is playing and it's Mrs. Uley, then Leah, and then ohmygod it's Bella in an off-white dress, all Bohemian and flowy with creamy shoulders bare, and ohmygod, she's walking past me and we're standing for Sue to enter, but my eyes are on the woman next to her, with her wavy hair and easy smile. She hasn't noticed me, but she meets Jasper's eyes, giving him sly little smiles with her blue eyes glowing underneath seventies fringe, and _fuck. _

This was a bad idea.

I don't remember the ceremony, but I do remember the outline of Bella's collarbone, the way her hands look gripping a bouquet of roses, even though I know she prefers wildflowers. I remember days in our meadow, picking dandelions and weaving them into her hair, sprawled out around her, and taking pictures as she smiles that big smile, and promising her a million times that yes, we can have wildflowers at our wedding. Subsequently remembering all the times seeing bright yellow dandelions brought on feelings of melancholy for years, and after a while, I forgot why. Until now, at least.

The reception is beautiful, all creams and reds and Bella's blush. Alice leaves me to find Bella, and my table is empty except for me and the can of Rainier I'm drinking from. The Chief always did have shitty taste in beer. At least he's constant.

My parents are dancing and I'm left alone, watching everyone around me celebrate their love and happiness when I suddenly feel a hand clasp my shoulder. I'm startled, glancing up, and maybe I shouldn't have used the Lord's name in vain earlier, surely he's punishing me for it now because Jasper fucking Whitlock is sitting down next to me.

"Looks like you could use some company, bud," He drawls, smiling as he hands me another beer, opening one for himself. "It's a lot of older folk here. I think we're the only men here under the age of forty." He laughs, and I fucking hate that he's nice. I thank him for the beer, quickly downing what's left of my current one and cracking open the one he brought for me.

"How do you know the Chief?" Jasper asks me, and I don't know what to say. I'm tempted to lie, to tell him that our connection was simply because of my parents or my sister or this small fucking town. Before I can think it through, I blurt out, "I used to date his daughter." I'm tempted to smack my palm against my face because surely that wasn't the smartest move to make.

Jasper's eyebrows lift, and I'm maliciously pleased that I've surprised this man that I have a completely biased hatred for, and I take that confidence and use it to hold out my hand with a smile. "_Doctor_ Edward Cullen. I loved your first album, by the way."

Cautiously, he shakes my hand, appraising me with his Texan blue eyes. It sets me on edge, so I just drink more beer and pray for someone to return to the table, feet exhausted from dancing. Of course, I'm not that lucky.

"Thanks for that. I'm guessing you weren't fond of my second album, then?" He lifts one eyebrow, and it's a challenge. He knows I've kept tabs on them in some way, that I know he's with Bella. He has my card. I shrug, pretending to be nonchalant, but inside, I'm a hurricane. "Found the subject matter to be a little too close to home. I'm sure you understand."

He squints, then laughs and takes a swig from his beer. "I think I do."

We're silent, and my eyes drift to where Bella and my sister are dancing, laughter escaping their smiles as they twirl, dresses billowing around their legs. I have a feeling Jasper is watching me watch her, but I ignore him, let him try to figure me out. If he does, I hope he'll let me know what's wrong with me, because I have no idea who I am right now or why I'm doing this to myself.

"She's special. I can see why you're hung up on her," Jasper finally says, watching Bella now as I glance at him in alarm. "But I've read her books and her poems. I can guess who you are. And I reckon you've blown your chance at being with her again." I realize how much I hate his Southern drawl. Or maybe I just hate him. Bella is spinning on the grass, and then she's looking around, eyes searching. I watch her find Jasper, find him sitting next to me, and her eyes widen. She meets my gaze as she bends down to whisper something to Alice. I look away before Alice can glare at me too.

"You might be right," I tell him. "But it doesn't change the fact that I still love her." I drain the rest of my beer, then stand, clasping Jasper on the shoulder, much like he did when he first approached me. He looks up at me apprehensively, hands tightening into fists, preparing for the worst. He doesn't know that I promised good behavior to come here, and I intend to keep my promises, even though I never did before. "She wants wildflowers at her wedding," I tell him, and then I leave him sitting there alone, turning to exit into the night without a backward glance, ignoring the pain ripping through my chest.

* * *

_A/N: Hope everyone is staying safe! xx orionsnights_


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

_Chapter Song - Sometime Around Midnight by The Airborne Toxic Event_

* * *

Going back to my parent's empty home after leaving the wedding seemed horribly depressing and I think I've spent enough time laying in bed feeling sorry for myself, so I end up at the only dive bar in Forks, _Sam's. _It's dark and dingy, and it's crowded because it's Saturday night at one of the only nightlife spots in town. There's a band playing under dingy red lights, some kids from the Reservation, singing a dark ass cover of 'You Can't Always Get What You Want' and of fucking course, I can't get what I want. So I'll settle for some whiskey.

I find a little spot towards the end of the bar, where no one else is sitting, and I perch myself there, leaning all my weight into the counter because suddenly I just feel so. heavy. like my bones are brittle, no longer able to support my frame, my weight, and if it wasn't for the sticky countertop below my elbows, I would collapse to the floor. I'm curling around my glass of Jack, and a couple of drinks in, Sam seems to realize I'm going through it because he just leaves the bottle on the counter and goes to tend to other patrons.

The band is playing Kings of Leon covers now, and I realize it's late, heading into early morning hours, and suddenly she's here with a crowd of other people. It's Leah, Alice, Seth, Jake, Emily, Jasper, but it's also her, still in that fucking dress and it feels like years have passed since I first saw her wearing it. I turn my back to the door, curling back around my glass and pouring another drink because this was supposed to make me forget her. But now she's here and I'm suddenly remembering nights sharing beers with that girl, sneaking wine with that girl, and now she's a woman and she's ordering a gin and tonic and she hasn't noticed me yet.

I consider paying and leaving, but they're at the table closest to the door and I don't think that's going to happen without getting noticed, so I sit and I listen to the band crooning, now a melancholic ballad. I glance over and catch her smiling, her head leaning into Jasper and I feel sick.

Perhaps whiskey can cure an upset stomach.

And then she glances over at me like she knew I was there all along, and perhaps she did. Maybe she's as attuned to me as I still am to her, but I doubt it. I meet her eyes and she meets mine, and I notice she's holding her drink like a nun might hold a crucifix, warding off the devil. If she thinks I'm the devil, I'm inclined to agree with her. How far I've fallen from grace.

I turn away, facing the bar again, and I feel slightly unsteady. The feeling only multiplies when Bella seems to materialize next to me. I'm sure I look panicked, and I feel the room spinning as she leans on the bar next to me, her empty drink in her hand, a smile gracing her features. I want to tell her she needs to keep those smiles closer to the chest. Stop giving them so freely, girl.

Her eyes flit over my face, taking me in. I'm not sure how I look.

"Hi," she greets, and I almost forgot her voice, how it's all sweet and breathy and feminine. She's still soft-spoken to a fault, and I would strain to hear her voice if I wasn't craving it so intensely.

"Hi," I respond, gruff and ugly comparatively. I clear my throat before trying again. "Um, hi, Bella. How are you?"

She squints a little, still smiling, cocking her head to the side slightly. "I'm good. How are you doing?"

I think I've been staring at her too long, so I look down at my glass before meeting her eyes again.

"Um, I'm good, yeah. I just completed my residency, so just figuring where I want to, you know. Live, I guess."

I'm staring at her too hard. I know I am. I didn't realize that I had forgotten the way her lips stretched into a smile or pursed into a pout. I had forgotten about the cute little gap between her front teeth that she never really cared about fixing. What's really torturing me is her fucking smell - all bergamot and honeysuckle and cedarwood, feminine and musky and _just Bella_. The smell of her clouds my mind, and I can't help but think back to times when she would wrap herself around me, flesh and slick and skin and that smell.

"That's good," Bella says, interrupting the dangerous thoughts taking over my brain. "Thanks for coming to the wedding. I'm sure Dad and Sue appreciated it." The more she talks, the more memories assault me, of time with her and then the time without her, when I pretended to move on, knowing that the dissolution of our relationship was entirely my own fault, yet too prideful to go back to her and tell her I made a mistake. Seeing her in front of me just reminds me that she's a successful writer and author, dating an internationally renowned musician, and I'm just the guy with a fancy degree living with his parents. I'm realizing that she's moved on and grown, just as I wanted her to, while I became stagnant.

My realization doesn't stop longing from welling up within me. It doesn't stop me from wanting her way too much. I take a shot, my mind swirling and nod at Bella, trying not to look at her.

"Well, I should get back," she smiles awkwardly, making a little _tsk_ sound, and then she's gone, out the door with her little party of people, with her boyfriend and I'm alone once again.

After several long moments of just staring at the empty whiskey bottles in front of me, Sam is back, asking if I'm okay. I ignore the question, pay my bill and leave, stumbling out of the bar. People are looking at me but I ignore them, ignore my car in the parking lot and I'm walking under the streetlights, mind hazy.

I don't know how long I walk, and I'm surprised to find that I'm in front of Bella's father's house. The light to the upstairs is on, and I don't see any cars in the driveway - not even the Audi. I stagger to the other side of the house, the one that I used to climb the tree and sneak into her room while the Chief was asleep, and there's her shadow in the room. I watch for a moment, looking for a flash of curly blonde hair, and when I find no one else with her, I make my way back to the front door and knock, leaning against the door jam. I think I might doze off at some point, because suddenly I'm stumbling into a warm body, and I realize the door has opened without me realizing it and I've collided into the person I'm trying to see.

"Bella?" I slur, grasping onto her for balance.

"Edward?" She sounds so confused, and I can see her eyebrows pull together. It's an inviting sight, and I watch with dismay as she disappears and it all fades to black.

* * *

_A/N: Hello all you beautiful people! It's been a crazy few months. Since I last updated, I quit my job, moved to a new state, and been crazy busy. I haven't forgotten about any of my stories and I'm working on them whenever I can find the time. Huge shoutout to Fran who messaged me about this story tonight and reminded me that I had finished this next chapter. All my love! xx orionsnights_


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